


What Binds Us

by Bemused_Writer



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Relationship, Book 04: Rhythm of War Spoilers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29912583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bemused_Writer/pseuds/Bemused_Writer
Summary: On the trip to Shinovar, Kaladin has time to think, enough time that he comes to a startling conclusion thanks to the help of an unlikely source. Perhaps some good can come of this trip despite all the chaos surrounding him.Takes place afterRhythm of War.
Relationships: Kaladin & Szeth, Kaladin/Sylphrena (Stormlight Archive)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	What Binds Us

Getting to Shinovar was going to be interesting. In theory, it should be quite simple; Kaladin was a Windrunner, which cut down on travel time quite a bit. On the other hand, there was a concentrated force of Singers along the way, just waiting to wipe out one of the Radiants. Somehow, he had to sneak past that to find one of the storming heralds hidden somewhere in a country he’d never visited.

And then there was the matter of his travel companion.

“I can’t believe I have to bring him with,” Kaladin mumbled as he added a few more bandages to his knapsack. His parents were bustling about in the background, helping patients. His father and he had largely overcome their previous argument.

“Dalinar  _ did  _ warn you it would be odd company,” Syl replied, swooping to stand on his shoulder. She was wearing an outfit reminiscent of a surgeon’s, which made him smile slightly. She’d even gotten the apron to be a bright white and had a little pair of spectacles, which she prodded consideringly before removing them. He wondered if his father had seen the imitation.

Syl was right, though. Dalinar had warned him, but he’d expected someone like Lopen or Renarin or basically anyone who hadn’t tried to kill him in the past. Normal odd, not murderous-with-a-tenuous-grasp-of-reality odd. But that pretty much fit in with how everything else in his life had been going.

There were some things that were markedly improved however. He watched Syl as she flew off his shoulder and onto an open book. Ever since she’d picked up reading and had realized she was capable of turning pages, she’d been doing it at every opportunity. There was something kind of… cute about seeing her--no larger than a mouse--studiously reading up on surgery. Somewhat more concerning was that she was teaching him. He’d resisted, but it was hard not to pick up on it when you had a spren who could form herself into script at any given moment for an impromptu lesson.

“If Dalinar can learn, why can’t you?” she’d pointed out. “Besides, think of all the doors it would open!”

Of course, she’d been right, so Kaladin had more or less accepted he’d be breaking yet more social norms. And, well, it made Syl happy, and it was nice to see that after the difficulties they’d both endured. She was a bright point in his life, had been for some time now. He wasn’t sure what he’d do without her.

He tried not to contemplate all that too much. He’d felt better after swearing the fourth ideal. Far from his best, but infinitely better than the dark place he’d fallen. But swearing the fourth ideal wasn’t a magic fix to all his problems. Indeed, there were potentially more problems now than there had been before. Navani had discovered a way to kill spren.

He could lose Syl without ever breaking his oath.

Kaladin turned his attention back to his knapsack, forcing that thought away. The dark visions Odium had sent him had faded, only to be replaced with nightmares of losing Syl, but he couldn’t think about that. He had to focus on getting to Shinovar. 

He’d brought as much as he could for what would hopefully be a short journey. Syl, likely sensing he was done, left the book and returned to his side. “Ready?”

“I think so,” he sighed. “Let’s go get our traveling partner.”

* * *

Szeth was not a talkative travel companion. Kaladin wasn’t sure if this was a boon or not. On one hand, he didn’t really want to talk to the Assassin in White. Awkward didn’t even begin to describe their current relationship. Kaladin hadn’t exactly forgotten all the trouble Szeth had given him, nor had he forgotten he’d killed the man. Szeth evidently wasn’t holding a grudge, but Kaladin wasn’t sure that improved the situation all that much. 

Still, no conversation meant he had no distraction from his own gloomy thoughts. There was also another problem. Szeth may not have been chatty, but his sword decidedly was.

_ Oh, there’s a group of Singers over there. Let’s go that way! _

“We’re trying to avoid the Singers, sword-nimi,” Szeth replied calmly. Kaladin could just make out an afterimage trailing after him. His soul, according to Szeth. A result of Nale bringing him back to life after, you know, Kaladin had killed him. Right. “We must make our way back to my homeland.” His tone darkened at that.

_ Sneaking around is boring. You know, Nin would have gone after the Singers. _

“Nin-aboshi joined the Singers.”

_ Oh, yeah. That was weird. _

That sword was potentially more disturbing than Szeth himself.

Syl flitted over, taking on the image of a bunch of tumbling leaves. They were flying pretty high in the sky, hiding above the clouds. It was the simplest way of avoiding the Singers, who didn’t normally bother. Kaladin couldn’t blame them. It was positively  _ freezing  _ up here and he was feeling a touch lightheaded. The sun was beginning to set, thankfully. He was really looking forward to camping. Despite his inner grumbling, they’d managed to avoid the Singers and had made excellent time and in only two days they’d reached the border of Shinovar.

It wasn’t fast enough. That left only eight days until Dalinar had his challenge with Odium. Kaladin may not be on the frontlines right now, but he wouldn’t exactly describe his current task as “relaxing.”

_ What are you thinking about? _ Syl asked as she flew by his side, taking her usual form. They’d been practicing on communicating silently through their connection and had made vast improvements after he’d sworn the next ideal.  _ You keep staring at Szeth. _

_ His soul is literally trailing after him, _ Kaladin replied.  _ I find that… unnerving. _

_ Because you killed him? _

We  _ killed him, but yeah. _

_ I don’t think he cares. _

_ No, I don’t think he does. Makes it a lot creepier, actually. _

_ True,  _ she acknowledged.  _ I’ve thought the same thing. Humans don’t normally come back from the dead.  _ Her tone was dark.  _ I’m not sure what I think about it. _

Kaladin knew without her having to say it that she was thinking of Teft.  _ Spren are coming back from the dead, too,  _ he said instead, hoping to bolster her.  _ Thanks to Adolin. _

She nodded, but didn’t reply. Something was bothering her. He wished she would tell him what.

“Let’s settle down,” Kaladin called to Szeth. The sun had finally dipped below the horizon and while he would prefer to march directly into the heart of Shinovar  _ now,  _ flying at this altitude at night was foolhardy at best and they needed rest. They’d been flying for hours--the bulk of the day. The amount of stormlight Kaladin had gone through was enormous. Szeth gave a curt nod and that was that. They began their descent.

* * *

The landscape of Shinovar was unlike any he’d ever seen. Rather than the rocky terrain he’d always taken for granted, the ground here was soft, almost squishy in certain areas, with green sprouts that just… stayed put even when you walked on them. Kaladin nudged them a little more roughly to see if they’d withdraw. They did not.

“That is grass,” Szeth said plainly. “It grows from the soil beneath it.”

_ Why are we talking about plants?  _ the sword grumbled.

“He looked confused.”

“This ‘grass’ must be dead,” Kaladin said. “It’s not moving.”

“It is not dead,” Szeth said and for a moment Kaladin swore he saw something almost akin to amusement on his face. “It is green, which means it is alive.”

“I… see.”

“Didn’t you ever wonder how we Shin could avoid walking on rock? There isn’t nearly so much here.”

“Fair enough,” Kaladin mumbled. Syl was wading through the stuff, seeming delighted at how she could bend it and pluck it.

They were in a grove, surrounded by trees, which also didn’t behave the way trees ought to. There weren’t any rockbuds or shalebark and Kaladin had never felt so much like a foreigner as he did in this strange place. He wondered if there were creatures here like the ones Wit described in his stories.

“Well, let’s make camp,” Kaladin finally said after he’d finished taking the environment in. Shinovar was weird. He could manage that. Probably.

Several hours later and Kaladin found he couldn’t sleep despite being exhausted. He kept thinking about Teft and Elhokar and Rock and, worst of all, Moash. And as if that wasn’t enough, he kept thinking about Syl. About what life would be like without her, without their bond. He kept thinking about Moash killing her, his once closest friend taking away the only consistent light his life had.

Maybe it was the strangeness of the land bringing some of this out, but it had been a concern ever since Navani had told him of her research. He wanted to be angry with her, but couldn’t quite manage it. They’d both done what they’d had to to survive.

At least the ground here was soft, decidedly more so than it had ever been in Alethkar, and he didn’t have to wonder what Szeth was doing; he was sleeping a few feet off. His sword was practically humming, likely from boredom if Kaladin had to hazard a guess.

Syl was floating lazily overhead as a little sphere of light. She could have almost been mistaken for a starspren. Then she reverted back to her humanoid form wearing a formal havah in dark purple with her safehand covered with a long sleeve, an unusual look for her. Her hair was still down, though, lending an interesting contrast to what would have otherwise been a very proper appearance.

She moved closer so she was a mere couple inches from his face. She studied his face, her eyes trailing over his features, before shaking her head. “What do you think?”

Kaladin considered the question. He had a feeling she wasn’t just asking about her havah, but he didn’t want to admit that, while he’d sworn the fourth ideal-- _ I accept that there will be those I cannot protect _ \--the thought of not being able to protect Syl was a lot harder to accept than any other failing. He’d learned how to protect her from himself, but how was he supposed to protect her against someone like Moash?

“You’ve gotten much better at manifesting in this world,” he said, opting to treat the question straightforwardly. “I’ve never seen you wear that color before.” If she hadn’t still been glowing blue and hadn’t still been absolutely tiny, he would have thought her a regular human.

“I have. Our bond is stronger,” she said seriously. Then, to his surprise, she grew to the size of a normal woman and settled at his side, resting her head on his shoulder. She’d done that plenty of times before, but they’d always been sitting. It felt… more intimate to have her lying at his side.

_ Don’t be ridiculous,  _ he scolded himself.  _ This is Syl you’re talking about. _

Besides, she didn’t quite feel like a human woman would. In this realm, she wasn’t a fully physical entity; her weight was barely noticeable. She was light and airy and … warm. He couldn’t help the wave of fondness that fell on him at that. She was like a summer zephyr. 

Tentatively, he wrapped his arms about her. Syl’s hair ghosted against his cheek, a fuzzy sensation. It was almost like hugging the winds themselves, an oddly comforting sensation. Maybe a bit like how he’d imagined a cloud would feel before he’d gone flying through one. How different from Shadesmar where she’d been as solid as himself.

He carefully quashed the part of his mind that was reminding him about decency and about what other people would think if they saw this. They were  _ bonded.  _ He was allowed to hug her. Besides, the only person who would see was Szeth and it wasn’t like his opinion mattered.

Storms, maybe he was just as uptight as Adolin and Shallan kept telling him.

_ I can feel your worry through our bond,  _ she said silently. He appreciated her tact; he wasn’t keen on Szeth or his sword overhearing a private conversation.  _ What’s bothering you? _

_ You mean outside all the regular things,  _ he replied dryly.

_ You’re doing better. I know that’s not it. _

True enough. He held her a little tighter. He wasn’t sure what the point of trying to hide his worry from Syl even was. He was always honest with her, more honest than he’d been with anyone.

_ It’s about what Navani learned,  _ he admitted.  _ About what could happen to you. _

_ That I could die? _

He nodded.

_ I understand,  _ she said.  _ For a long time, I’d forgotten so much. I didn’t think about death or what it means to lose someone. I didn’t think about Relador. _

_ Your old bond? _

_ Yes. He was a very kind man. Honorable. And then he was gone and it hurt so terribly and for many years I lost myself. Sometimes… No, often lately, I find myself afraid of that. Afraid of losing you and then myself in turn. _

It was hard to know the right answer to that. It seemed they’d been of a similar mind of late. He feared he may have infected her with the darkness that so often plagued him, but… Wasn’t that a part of being alive? The pain, sorrow, and joy intermingling into that thing called life. And it wasn’t right to take credit for what she was going through. Syl was her own person, they were just… well matched.

_ I’ll do my best to make sure you have me for a long time, Syl, _ he said softly.  _ That’s all I can do. _

_ I suppose that’s all I can do for you as well. I can’t promise I won’t die, Kal, but until that day, I’m here for you. Always. _

He held her and buried his face in her hair, content to allow the embrace to continue. It was nice not to be alone, to have someone who understood. Sometimes he convinced otherwise, on those bad days that still plagued him, but the truth was that Syl had never once abandoned him.

Teft was right. Thinking about the end or possible ends only made him feel like a failure, like that wretch he tried so hard to overcome. He had to rejoice in the present, in what he had. Right now, he very literally had Syl in his arms; best to enjoy the moment.

“Why purple?” he finally whispered against her. They needed something lighter.

“The havah?” she whispered back, sounding amused. “I saw it on Jasnah and thought it lovely. She’s very beautiful, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

“Oh, don’t be grumpy. You’re allowed to admit a lighteyed woman is beautiful, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, just don’t ask me to woo her, please.” He still hadn’t forgotten Syl’s dogged determination in getting him together with Shallan and then Lyn. Jasnah would simply be too much.

Syl giggled. “You’d be a terrible match! All you do is argue.”

“Don’t I know it,” he mumbled. “So, is that why you’re covering your safehand as well? To imitate Jasnah?”

She glanced at the hand in question, modestly covered in a long sleeve. “Oh, no, that’s for a different reason.”

“Different how?”

“Mature women wear these,” she said loftily. “It’s ridiculous, but it’s what your culture has settled on.”

“Yes?”

“And I’m a mature woman. Well, little piece of divinity, but you see what I mean.”

“Of course.” He couldn’t quite keep the amusement out of his voice. 

“You don’t think so?” She lifted herself onto her elbow to look down on him. She sounded serious and that… wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. Normally, such a conversation would have been the obvious beginning to a round of lighthearted jabs. Kaladin wasn’t sure how he was supposed to reply.

“I mean, you’re not a woman, you’re a spren,” he replied dumbly. He inwardly cringed.

“I think I’m both,” she said with an eye roll. “But that’s not the important part. I’m thousands of years old. That means I’m dignified.”

“Syl,” he said simply, fondly. “You’re a wonderful, beautiful spren and woman. But the other day you threw my shirt out the highest window in Urithiru because you wanted to see how far it would float. That is not dignified.”

“But that’s--!” She paused, then sighed. “That’s my spazzy brain. What about the other one?”

Kaladin sat up. Well, he wasn’t about to be getting any rest anyway and it seemed like Syl had a lot on her mind. “The other one?”

“I’m of two minds more often than not. There’s a part of me that just wants to be like the windspren and play pranks, have fun. And then there’s the part of me that knows important things. That can understand you. That side must be dignified.”

“It is,” he said, not quite sure why the specific word mattered. “Most people are many things.”

She stared down at her covered safehand, sighed, and said, “I wonder if I should have gone with a glove instead. That would have been more familiar to you, right? Or less… lighteyed, I suppose.”

“Syl, if there’s something you’re trying to tell me…”

How could he explain that, while he couldn’t forgive how society favored lighteyes over darkeyes, he didn’t  _ hate  _ them just for being lighteyed anymore? And more importantly, why should it matter if Syl imitated their looks or not? She was always trying on different styles. More often than not she went about in a filmy dress with both hands exposed, which was fine because she was a spren and therefore above most societal expectations.

“I’m not sure I’m trying to tell you anything.” She sounded genuinely bemused. “But I want…” She shook her head again. “Never mind. I’ll think about it some more. Got to bed.” She nudged him slightly until he finally lied back down. Kaladin hadn’t been this confused in a while.

“Syl--” But she was back to being a tiny beacon of light zipping through the air and she wouldn’t reply to his quiet calls. He sighed in consternation. What had that been about?

* * *

The next day was a miserable trudge through a country that just didn’t make sense. There were several fierce looking chickens flying overhead with sharp talons and brown feathers. Syl had soared upwards to fly with them as they circled overhead. They were walking now that they were in Shinovar. They’d depleted their stormlight and it would be a bit before a storm came about to infuse them.

One of the chickens darted downwards and emerged with something in its mouth.

“That’s… a violent chicken,” Kaladin observed.

Szeth glanced up disinterestedly. “Yes,” he said.

_ Are they evil?  _ The sword demanded.

“No, sword-nimi. They are regular fowl.”

_ Hm. Sounds boring. Let’s go kill something. _

“It is not yet time for that,” Szeth replied idly. Storms, these two really took some getting used to. It was just nonstop talk about evil and death and something about being Truthless. Honestly, they gave Kaladin a headache--the sword rather literally--but there was no denying things would be a lot more difficult without his presence.

Still, Szeth was not being altogether helpful in explaining as much as he could. His sword kept mumbling about finding evil and Szeth kept explaining that no, they already had a mission to find a herald, and Kaladin just wanted the two of them to shut up and give him a moment’s rest.

He hadn’t really slept at all last night. He was feeling cranky.

Oddly, and much to his further aggravation, Szeth pulled back to walk beside him. “We’re near a small town. We can restock on supplies here.”

“That’s great,” Kaladin said. A square meal would do wonders. He contented himself with watching Syl fly for the moment to distract himself. She seemed to be having fun; she hadn’t had an opportunity to have much of that lately, and he was loath to pull her away from it.

“You care a great deal for your spren,” Szeth observed as they continued through the bramble.

“Of course I do.”

“She is fond of you.”

“Yes.” It was usually best to keep answers short and to the point with Szeth. He may have forgiven Kaladin for killing him, but it seemed like the kind of thing that would be a sore point and Kaladin really didn’t want to accidentally get into a heart-to-heart about it.

Szeth glanced up at her as she danced about in the air. “I believe she wishes to impress you. This strikes me as odd behavior for a spren.”

“She doesn’t really have to try,” Kaladin said warily. Szeth must have overheard some of what they’d said last night after all. “She’s the most impressive person I know.”

Szeth nodded intently, as if this were the expected answer. “Then you’re lucky. Not many people form such a powerful bond with their spren. I’m not sure I ever thought it possible.”

“Right…”

He wished Szeth would leave it alone. He was trying  _ not  _ to think about Syl, their bond, and what would happen if he lost that. And… what did he mean it was unusually strong, anyway?

“The nature of our oaths, our bonds, is unique,” Szeth continued, uncaring of Kaladin’s dismissive tone. “But even so, some might describe this as excessive. I wonder what her brethren would think.”

Against his better judgment he asked, “Of what?”

Szeth blinked slowly, his large eyes seeming to stare right into him. “Your courtship, obviously.”

Kaladin tripped on thin air, just barely managing to avoid falling flat on his face. “Our what?!”

_ Your courtship,  _ the sword muttered slyly.  _ Come on. How long has it been going?  _

“That is not what’s going on!” Kaladin exclaimed, glancing furtively to see if Syl had overheard. She hadn’t; she was still flying with that freakish chicken.

“Of course,” Szeth replied with a slight incline of his head.

_ Oh, please, we are not dropping it there. I had to spend the whole night listening to these two talking about death and bonds and clothing. It was awful. When do I get to just  _ kill  _ something? _

Kaladin flushed slightly. The sword could hear their thoughts? Well, he did speak into their minds, but he hadn’t thought it would extend so far.

“There is nothing here to kill, sword-nimi,” Szeth replied. “We are speaking of their courtship.”

_ Oh, right. Well? How long? _

Kaladin just stared at them. How many of his thoughts could that sword hear? Was nothing private? Or could he just hear actual conversations? Oh, this was a nightmare.

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Kaladin finally managed.

_ Huh. Not long then.  _

“We could have misunderstood,” Szeth replied with an apologetic shrug to Kaladin. Great, the Assassin in White was feeling sorry for him. That was just what he’d needed to really make this trip memorable.

_ Yeah, right,  _ the sword crowed.  _ Sometimes I forget how funny you actually are. I mean, you could show it a little more often is all I’m saying. _

And with that the sword’s focus was back on Szeth and away from Kaladin.

It was too late. All he could think about was their ridiculous claim and about his bond with Syl. It was true that some of the spren had been… pretty vocal about disapproving of it. They’d said it was worse than eloping. Actually, the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like they thought Syl had married too young, but… that was just a weird spren thing. That wasn’t what had  _ actually  _ happened. It wasn’t like every Radiant was in a romantic relationship with their spren. That would be absurd.

He thought about it for a moment. No, Dalinar certainly couldn’t be in a relationship with the Stormfather and--actually, he didn’t want to contemplate that whatsoever. Why was he thinking about this?

And yet now that he was, he couldn’t seem to stop. It was safe to say that Kaladin did not have a successful love life. There were a variety of reasons for that, he was sure, namely that his life had hardly been conducive to forming one, but deep down he could also acknowledge that he’d sort of … stopped looking eventually. The only reason he’d even tried with Lyn was because of Adolin’s and Syl’s encouragement and because he figured that was what he was  _ supposed  _ to do. She was a Windrunner. She understood and respected duty. It hadn’t worked anyway.

Maybe he’d stopped looking because he already had everything he needed. He had friends, a  _ purpose. _

He had Syl.

It finally clicked.

The shock of it was so profound that this time he really did fall flat on his face. He could hear the sword laughing uproariously.

* * *

They were getting closer to the tenth day. Szeth had gone off to do... something. He claimed it was related to his next ideal. Kaladin wasn’t sure; the man was unstable. Regardless, it meant he was on his own in Shinovar without any idea of where that herald could be, so that was fantastic.

It meant he was alone with nothing but his thoughts and Syl, who was currently occupying most of those thoughts.

Storms, Kaladin had been breaking a lot of social taboos of late, but this was surely a  _ pretty big  _ social taboo. A Radiant? Falling for his spren? That seemed like something out of a cheesy romance novel an edgy lighteyed woman might read, not the kind of thing he should seriously be entertaining. 

Only, no, it was worse than that, wasn’t it? No one would ever entertain this, not even in fiction. There were boundaries in the world and some of them weren’t meant to be crossed. Sure, Szeth might have thought it was fine, but was he really about to take the blessing of a mass murderer as proof his affection was normal?

But the more he thought about his bond with Syl, with how nothing else  _ worked,  _ the more he couldn’t deny it. He  _ did  _ care about Syl, admire her, maybe even love her.

Somehow, more terrifying still, was the thought she might feel the same way about him. All that business about her safehand, about being dignified… Was that what she thought he wanted? Some perfect representation of Alethi womanhood? Was she just trying to match his presumed expectations?

He would hate himself if he’d pushed his abnormal feelings onto Syl, made her uncomfortable, changed her--

He was spiraling. Kaladin was prone to overthinking things. He needed to stop and just  _ ask  _ her. Easier said than done.

But at the end of the day Kaladin was no coward, and he’d never been able to hide from the truth of things for very long.

“Syl,” he began. She turned to him, hovering over the ground, an invisible wind tugging at her hair and dress. They were just outside town, heading in what was  _ probably  _ the direction of the herald. She was the size of a regular human again and dressed in what he assumed was a fashionable style. She liked to talk to Adolin about that sort of thing a lot.

“I’ve been thinking about bonds and… the Radiants of old.”

She nodded, looking curious. No backing out now. He continued. “They were with their spren for a long time, right?”

“Until either a broken oath separated them or death,” she confirmed. “They were together for many, many years.”

“And did they ever… form a different kind of bond?” He flushed slightly. He felt so ridiculous skirting about the actual question, but doing anything else seemed monumentally difficult.

At this she frowned, seeming quizzical. “The only bond they could have was sworn through the oaths. What else could there be? Anything else would be impossible.”

Not exactly promising. “I guess I was thinking of human bonds. Would a spren ever want to be involved in that?”

“A human bond…” For a long moment she was still as she studied him. He didn’t dare move; the moment seemed too fragile.

“Kaladin,” she started, sounding small. “Are you asking about love?”

Simple. Straightforward. “Yes,” he whispered. The word thundered about them. “Have Radiants ever fallen in love with their spren?

“And have spren ever returned the affection if so,” she finished for him.

Unexpectedly, she smiled, but it was a fragile, sad thing. “Of course they have, silly. Why else would I have worked so hard to be with you?”

He breathed in sharply, overwhelmed. “But you did so much before you even knew me. It couldn’t have been that at first. What changed?”  _ Is it my fault? Did I do this? Is it wrong? _

She smiled. “I got to know you. I saw your heart, more clearly than I’ve ever seen anything. You embody honor, but you’re more than that, too. Sometimes you’re broken, but it never lasts, and it’s never stopped you from doing great things.”

Despairing, “Syl, I almost killed you. Twice.”

“But you didn’t. And you saved me too, you know. You said the words.”

The event in question came back to him, stark and fearsome, of him falling from Urithiru, broken, and finding his purpose once more, grabbing Syl tight, holding her close, and swearing the fourth ideal.

“You always get around to it eventually,” Syl said warmly. “And it’s not like I’m not getting anything out of our bond. I get to see this world and learn who I am.”

“I don’t want to change you.” It was terrifying, the idea that he could break the one he cared for most.

“Kaladin,” she said sternly. “What we have is an equitable relationship. You have changed me no more than I have changed you. You’re not the same man I met. I mean, you’re still grumpy, but I think that’s just a permanent personality trait,” she sighed exaggeratedly. “But I think I can accept that.”

“Then… it’s not wrong?”

“What isn’t?” She arched her brow.

“This. A… relationship. Like husband and wife.”

“You humans always like to define things,” she said with an eye roll. “I guess it makes sense. How else would you keep track of all those kids?”

“Syl…”

“I’m a spren, Kaladin. This can’t be like your image of a husband and wife. I can’t give you what a human could. I’m not interested in sex or homemaking or… any of that.” She said it in a rush, an attempt at nonchalance that was failing.

“Not all humans are either.” He hadn’t known that for a long time, but he’d recently been made aware of just how much diversity was out there and it had been illuminating. It had also helped him reach this point, he supposed. Opened his mind.

“You are.”

“Not… to the exclusion of all else,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm. “I’ll admit, nothing in my life has turned out the way I thought it would, and that used to bother me. I thought it meant I’d failed. I should be able to preserve things, keep things the way they’re  _ supposed  _ to be. But, Syl, everything good in my life branched from something strange, from the unexpected.” He smiled. “You’re the strangest, most unexpected thing that’s happened to me. And also the most wonderful.”

She broke into a wide, dazzling grin. “Oh, Kaladin Stormblessed, you’re rather strange yourself.”

“And that’s… good?”

“It’s the best.” And she swooped in, not unlike a sudden breeze, and pressed her lips to his own, her hands cupping his face. She was cool and light and for a moment he thought he heard the distant rumbling of a storm only it sounded more like a hum of approval.

He wrapped his arms about her--she was just solid enough for him to do so--and vowed he would preserve her. Even if all else fell to dust, he would be there for Sylphrena.

There was still much to be done. A world to save. A herald to find. And who knew what Szeth was doing. But for that moment, Kaladin let his worries drift away in favor of celebrating the one who had saved his life again and again. One dilemma was resolved. He could be more than content with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a super short, fluffy fic, but the premise grew. I really enjoyed including Szeth and sword-nimi. As for the ship, I really do think that Kaladin will either get with Syl or no one at all. I guess time will tell. As long as Kaladin/Happiness is the result I think I'll be satisfied. XD
> 
> Also, I heard that the paperback edition changed Szeth's death from being killed outright by Kaladin to him only being injured by him and then being killed by the storm. I decided to stick with the former since it's what I'm more familiar with, though.


End file.
